


The Other Woman

by Who_Dat



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Roy Hodgson Is A Wanker, Tottenham Hotspur, england nt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_Dat/pseuds/Who_Dat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look at that, Eric Dier, scoring on and off the pitch." </p><p>-•- </p><p>In which Eric ends up up looking for love, only to find it right under his nose. </p><p>But like any love, you've got to be willing to do a whole lot to make it happen. </p><p>Even if that means making an enemy or two along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Woman

**Author's Note:**

> • ~  
> So, I really wanted to get this out before the Wales game, but I'm such a slow writer :( 
> 
> Roy Hodgson makes me very sad even if he's somehow become a tactical genius in the Twitter-verse after bringing on three strikers when down 1-0. He's the worst, but anyway, on to the boring stuff: 
> 
> Bold italic font is used for Eric texting. 
> 
> Normal bold font is used for Dele texting. 
> 
> Italics are used to emphasize words, and for flashbacks. 
> 
> Fun times.

He wants to say it was a mistake.

It all started on a Sunday night.

They'd been given the day off and it had been Kyle's idea.

Clubbing. Well, not _really_ clubbing. They weren't drinking, not during a major tournament. It was just for the dancing, the music. Really Kyle had just wanted a taste of the French nightlife, something to take their minds off of the weekends result.

He had thought it would be a great idea, the perfect opportunity to take his mind off things.

Some opportunity alright.

~

  
Of course he had to be early, just fucking _brilliant_.

It's supposed to be Kyle, Danny, Harry, Ross, Stonesy, himself, and of course Dele. It's never a party without Dele.

He orders himself a beer, can't help it, he isn't gonna sit all by himself completely sober. It doesn't take long though, for a tanned arm to slide its way around his neck.

"Living life on the edge, are you now Diet?" Dele's voice carries a hint of laughter as he eyes Eric's drink from top to bottom.

"Piss off." He snorts, nudging Dele away. He's not in the mood for a babysitter, but he learns fairly quickly his friend's got other plans in mind as he snatches the bottle away, taking a tentative sip.

Is he serious? Eric swats at him, rolling his eyes. "Some role model." He mutters.

"You're older than me Diet, can't be your role model if you're my bad influence." Dele grins, sliding the beer back to him.

"I'm not doing anything." He's firm. Dele's being nonsensical, which isn't anything new.

"Except breaking the rules."

"Who are you, my mum?"

"Maybe."

"You're not getting anymore of this. I think it's getting to your brain, you lightweight, although I guess you're kind of womanly."

Dele doesn't miss a beat. "Maybe to you, since you can't exactly get the real thing."

"Don't fucking remind me."

His love life is nothing short of depressing, and Dele knows that better than anyone.

"I think we should make you one of those dating profiles. Eric Diet, age twenty-two, thinks he's Portuguese, can't dance to save his life, King of the virgins-"

"I can already feel the love." He deadpans.

"I could charge you for some advice." Dele grins. It doesn't take a genius to know he has a girlfriend, a gorgeous one too. Dele's pretty loveable, so it's no surprise he can find love in the blink of an eye.

"Someone get me another drink." He buries his head on the bar. Dele gently prods at his face, he appears genuine when he says:

"Don't worry Diet, you're pretty great, love's gonna find you one day, just you wait." His voice is soft as he slowly lifts Eric's head. He sounds like a total sap, but he finally feels like he's starting to believe it, that he's not completely hopeless.

Dele's phone buzzes and it only takes him a second before he's off.

"Be right back, gotta take this."

It's probably his girlfriend. He's willing to bet _anything_.

He's left alone for less than a second before a girl slides down next to him in Dele's spot. She's got long dark hair complimenting tanned skin and hazel eyes. She's also wearing a fairly revealing dress and there's no question, she's gorgeous. Why she's sitting next to him, not to mention eyeing him like a fucking _meal,_ is another question entirely.

"Someone's sitting there..." He mutters. Her lips curl upward in response and he can already feel his heartbeat starting to speed up.

"I know, I just wanted to talk to you. I hear you like Portugal."

"You heard us?"

"Maybe." She's smiling now, and he practically wills himself not to go red.

"I lived there for most of my life, now I'm in England, back where I was born."

"I know. You used to play for Sporting, I'm a fan." She winks at him, and maybe, just maybe, Dele's ridiculous love advice wasn't too far off.

He laughs. "You caught me. It's amazing, London's got nothing on Lisbon."

"Tell me about it. I think you're the only English person to ever admit that."

"Well apparently I think I'm Portuguese so..."

They're both laughing now and he honestly doesn't think he's ever hit off with someone so quickly.

She leans in, lips just grazing his ear. "You may not look Portuguese on the outside..." She places a smooth hand on his chest. "But in here. I can feel it."

He doesn't even have time to respond before the feeling of death suffocates his body. Dele's glare's probably worthy of melting icebergs, so his very soul is a fairly easy task for it.

He approaches and Eric's fairly sure his body has lost its ability to move, let alone react to a murderous predator, otherwise known as Dele Alli, inching his way closer to them. Dele sizes up Eric's new little friend, eyes zeroed in on her chest, an expression of pure evil playing across his lips.

"Sorry, you're sitting in my seat." He says, it's a tad too sweet and far too dismissive.

"Eric didn't seem to mind." She retorts, sizing Dele up. "We were just talking about Portugal, which is probably something you don't know too much about."

That seems to piss Dele off even more. His eyes are narrowed and Eric's starting to feel like he's caught in the middle of a fight between two women. He's honestly ready to tell Dele off.

"Yeah? Well he's not interested in you, so you can leave now." Dele's smile is all teeth, and Eric's left wondering what the fuck is going on. Wasn't Dele the one who was encouraging him to be optimistic about his love life?

"Why don't you let Eric speak for himself, he seemed pretty interested to me." She raises a coy eyebrow and Eric can practically feel the anger radiating from Dele's body seep into him.

"I don't need to. Eric is my boyfriend. I'm going to make it very clear, he's not interested in you."

For a second he feels like he's on another planet. Dele did _not_ just say that. He's hallucinating, he has to be.

The girls eyes flick from him to Dele, who's got a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Busted." He giggles, as she flees from his seat. Dele flicks his head back, shooting her one last glare before he bursts into a fit of hysteria.

"That was fun, wasn't it Diet?" He's still giggling as he takes his seat. Eric's still pretty much shell shocked. The only thought coursing through his mind is along the lines of 'you fucking bastard.' His gut instinct is to wipe that smirk right off Dele's face.

The glare he gives Dele is rather terrifying, and his friend seems alarmed, probably sensing Eric's urge to punch him.

"You have five seconds to explain what the _hell_ that was all about." He sounds absolutely feral, yet Dele somehow manages to brush it off.

"Something wasn't right about her."

Eric's ready to bring out a fucking firing squad. "That's it? _That's it_?" He can't help but repeat himself. What the hell is Dele's problem?

"I don't understand why you're getting so mad at me..."

"Listen here. I thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , your bullshit advice was right. That maybe love did find me. For one of the first times in my _fucking life_ I found someone I could actually connect with, someone who actually has something in common with me, yet here you are trying to ruin everything! What the hell is your problem?"

"The only reason you liked her was because she was Portuguese. And the only reason she liked you was because she recognized you from T.V and wanted to get in your pants."

"For a guy who had no part in the conversation, you have some fucking nerve." He's getting pissed off. Dele thinks he knows everything doesn't he?

"I'm right. We could probably drop you in the streets of Portugal right now and you'd find the same amount of chemistry with some tramp off the street."

"I'm honestly gonna break your jaw."

"Because you know I'm right."

"No, because I think you're some sort of sadistic sociopath who feeds off my suffering."

"I'm not, I just want to look out for you, ok?"

"Because killing my chemistry with someone's looking out for me." He mutters, rolling his eyes. Dele doesn't seem to appreciate the comment.

"I think you've already found love Eric, you're just too afraid to open your eyes and face it."

"You're losing me with all your sap. I'm not in love Dele."

"Prove it."

"How the hell am I supposed to prove it?!"

"You know how."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You do." Dele's leaning his head on Eric's shoulder, an arm slinking its way around his waist. He suddenly feels a tad too warm for his liking.

"What the hell are you doing?" He can feel his cheeks heating up and it's not at all pleasant.

"Proving it. Open your eyes Eric. Tell me how you feel."

"Uncomfortable since you're acting like a fucking therapist."

"No you're not. Tell me you how you really feel."

"Dele what the hell are you on? You're scaring me."

"I'm not on anything, now tell me how you feel. Dele's hand is hovering dangerously near his crotch. He needs to get the hell out of here, right now.

"Dele, seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me who you love."

"I'm not in love Dele!"

"Yes you are!"

"Who the hell am I in love with?"

"Me!"

Eric practically chokes on his next words. "Excuse me?"

Dele's pretty much on his lap now, entangling his various limbs around Eric's body.

"You're in love with me." He says quietly, head buried in Eric's shoulder.

He's speechless. Utterly speechless.

"Prove it." The words escape his mouth before he can stop them, daring Dele to rise to the challenge.

"I don't really know how to explain it..." Dele's voice is soft, Eric can barely hear it over the beat echoing through the club. "Don't you feel something whenever we're together? This warm tingly feeling that leaves you all mushy inside?" His hands glide across Eric's chest, resting themselves over his heart. Eric's pretty sure it's beat isn't exactly normal.

"I... I really don't know Dele." He feels so tense. He has no idea what to do with his body as Dele invades his personal bubble.

"Can we find out? Please Diet?"

Dele's eyes are practically sparkling. He can't say no to those, and he knows it.

"I'm listening DelBoy..." He tries to relax himself, and it works, to some degree.

"Try and be openminded, just for one night..." Dele sounds so soft, so innocent. "Just relax and do anything that feels right. I'll let you."

Just what the hell is he implying?

"You really seem sure of yourself." He mutters, his fingers finding the back of Dele's neck. Dele hums at the contact, burying his face deeper into Eric's shirt.

"Because I am sure. I can see it, all that love in your eyes Diet."

His cheeks flush. Dele's getting way too emotional. He'll never admit it, but he's got a soft spot when it comes to sappiness, especially when it's from Dele.

Dele lifts his head to meet Eric's eyes, taking the in pale skin complimented by rosy cheeks. His gut instinct is to run. He hates letting anyone catch him with his guard down, but he settles for averting his gaze, giving him a moment to build the walls he likes to surround himself with back up.

Dele isn't having it though, as his hands lock around the sides of Eric's face, forcing it to turn back to him.

"Openminded."

"I'm trying." He feels too hot, and the need to scratch under the collar of his shirt is growing by the second. He doesn't like Dele seeing him like this, it's too open, if that makes any sense.

"No you're not. Eric, look at me."

Brown eyes meet blue. He's never been this scared of looking at Dele before. Because he doesn't know what to expect, and he hates surprises. He thrives off the feeling of being prepared, something Dele's giving him none of at the moment.

"I really like your eyes Diet, they're so nice, so blue. They're probably the most beautiful eyes in the whole wide world."

If his face wasn't red enough before, it certainly is now. He's practically choking for words.

"You sound like a woman." He sounds distant, not exactly like himself, but it's the best he can do at the moment.

"But I'm not lying. They're endearing."

"Seriously, who the hell are you and what have you done with the real Dele?" He's finally able to recollect himself, sliding his hands under Dele's arms and proceeding to tickle him into oblivion. He finally puts an end to it after Dele nearly falls from his seat, still in a fit of hysteria as Eric attempts to steady him.

"You can thank me later." He mutters, brushing Dele off. It feels odd to finally have a bit of space to himself as his friend still remains doubled over in laughter.

"You almost killed me!" Dele's not serious, yet he still feels the need to check over him, inspect for any damage.

"You're fine, Jesus."

"You're awful." Dele pouts, stretching his arms over his head. "I wonder when the others are gonna get here."

Shit, he'd completely forgotten about them. That still doesn't stop his lips from settling into a satisfied smirk.

"They probably already showed up, but then saw you trying to molest me and rang the manager in terror." He mocks, narrowly dodging a kick from Dele.

"It wasn't molesting, it was love mate, you're way too dense."

He grins. "Maybe to you it was, but that'll change when Neville shows up with a pair of cuffs and chains you to the bench for the rest of the tournament."

"He's not stopping England's next great." Dele's giggling now as Eric finds himself moving closer. He suddenly wants to touch Dele, like Dele touched him earlier, he's pretty sure he's allowed.

"Why's he gonna stop me? I'm the victim here." He's way too smug and Dele fails once again at trying to kick at him.

"I thought you were Portugal's next great, not England's, you never seem to shut up about being Portuguese."

"Maybe I should refresh your memory. Remember when I scored an absolute beauty for England? Free kick, straight in, world class? Seems like it was just yesterday."

"I think you're dreaming mate." Dele's face is only inches from his now, legs intertwined with his, and hand massaging Eric's wrist.

Yet Eric doesn't mind.

He doesn't even feel embarrassed.

That really isn't like him.

"Only when I'm with you." The words slide out before he can stop them, and Dele's hand latches on to his own, grasp like a goddamn viper as he pulls them up.

"Bathroom, now."

He doesn't even complain as he feels himself being practically being dragged. Out of the corner of his eye he's almost positive he catches a glimpse of Danny, but he's got other things on his mind at the moment. Danny can wait. Everything can wait.

They've barely made it into the bathroom before Dele's got his lips on him, pushing for access into Eric's mouth, which he'll allow without question.

His hands rest on Dele's waist, although he's tempted to go lower. He doesn't know if that's within reason, so he attempts to focus on Dele, tries to be openminded with his feelings, his actions, but he's left stuck on Dele's taste.

Dele tastes like mint. He probably popped something earlier, around when Eric was chatting with that girl. He can't even remember what she looked like anymore. He can't remember much of anything at the moment, probably not even his own name if you asked him.

He feels so far gone. All he can think about his Dele's tongue exploring his mouth. He closes his eyes, slowly moving a hand towards Dele's ass, resting it for a moment before giving it a tight squeeze. Dele doesn't seem startled, so he thinks it's alright. He can't really help himself. Dele has a beautiful butt, not that he'd ever say it aloud.

They don't even hear the door open, which makes it that more terrifying when he's greeted to Danny's gaping face.

"What the actual fuck."

Dele pulls away, instantly whipping around to size up the intruder, only for his eyes to widen in surprise at the sight of their Spurs teammate.

"Danny..." Eric's surprised he can even say anything. He can already feel his cheeks heating up.

"Dele, give us a second please." Dele surprisingly obliges, even Danny looks surprised.

Danny waits until the door is closed before he gets up in his face.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, Jesus!" He's slightly worried Danny's going to lash out at him.

"You're taking advantage of him and you know it."

"How the hell am I taking advantage of him?"

"Eric, how drunk is he? Does he even remember he has a girlfriend?"

It takes him a moment to even remember Dele has a girlfriend. _Shit_. He really can't believe himself.

That's when he remembers.

_Dele isn't drunk._

He had a _sip_ of Eric's beer.

A fucking _baby sip_.

And even Dele isn't that much of a lightweight.

"Danny, he's not drunk."

"So you're telling me that the two of you are completely sober, and just decided to start making out like lovesick teenagers for the hell of it?"

"Maybe we're in love." He snarks back. He definitely sounds like a moody teenager, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

"That would explain Dele's girlfriend." Danny retorts, sarcasm thick in his voice. "What the hell are you on Eric?"

"Nothing." Although he might actually be high on Dele. He feels slightly lightheaded, can't get the thought of Dele's lips on his out of his brain, he's definitely up in his happy place right now, which doesn't seem all that normal.

"Eric look at me, you're not right." Danny leans in closer, attempting to examine him. He seems genuinely concerned. Eric honestly just wants him out of his face.

"I'm fine." He tries to pull away.

"You're heading back to the hotel right now."

"I was already planning on it."

"You're not going with Dele." Danny reads right through him, and Eric's left wanting to throw a conniption. Who the hell does Danny think he is? He's not Eric's mum.

"I am going with Dele and there's nothing you can do about it." That just seems to piss Danny off.

"I really didn't want to do this Eric, but if you go with him, this is going to his girlfriend." Danny slides out his phone, shoving a video of him and Dele, just moments ago, kissing, and of course, the fucking ass squeeze. It's only a few seconds, but it paints a crystal clear picture. He attempts to grab the device, but Danny's reflexes are too quick for him as he shoves it back into his pocket.

"You _wouldn't_."

"I won't if you keep your hands to yourself Eric. You need to focus on the tournament, not on someone else's boyfriend. If it means helping the team, I'm not afraid to use it."

"You're full of shit." Eric shoves his way through, storming out of the bathroom. Like hell anyone's gonna see that video. Danny's having a laugh.

Dele's waiting for him back at their table, he looks anxious.

"What did Danny want?"

"Nothing." He mutters through gritted teeth. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

Dele stands, wrapping his arms around Eric's body.

"Aww you're angry, aren't you Diet? Don't worry, I'll make you feel all better." He whispers into the back of Eric's neck. He can honestly feel himself shiver. Where Dele learned that one, he'll never know.

Not that it really bothers him.

~

He knows he really should, but he can't get himself to move from Dele's bed.

They got back to the hotel over two hours ago and they've yet to get up, lying in nothing but their boxers, cuddling away.

Not that he's complaining or anything.

"You're so soft." Dele's giggling, they're taking turns feeling each other out. They each get fifteen seconds before they swap. It's pretty amusing, and it also feels great to have Dele's hands making circles around his back.

"I don't know if I should be taking that as a compliment or not."

"I like it. I always thought Portuguese guys were hairy, but I guess not." Dele teases, rolling on top of him. Eric snickers back.

"You're a fuck, you know that?"

"Yep, but you love me anyway."

"I do." He nods, stroking the side of Dele's face.

"I love you too Eric." Dele leans down, planting a kiss on Eric's lips. For a second, he just wants to freeze and live in this moment for the rest of his life. Just him and Dele, Dele and him, where no one else can see them.

That second is short lived though, as they freeze to banging on the door.

Eric presses a finger over his lips, Dele nodding in agreement, body otherwise still as a statue.

The persistent knocking stops after a moment. He's fairly sure it's just Danny, probably still trying to get up in his business. He doubts anyone important would be looking for him this late.

That's about when he hears the sound of a key card sliding into the door. He doesn't even have time to move before he's greeted by his intruder.

_Oh fuck._

It's Dele's girlfriend.

And she doesn't look too happy.

Dele rolls off him immediately, feebly shielding the two of them with the covers.

"What the _hell_ is this?" She looks absolutely livid and Eric definitely isn't ready to take her shit.

They both remain silent as she rips away the covers.

"Well?" Eric's really hoping she doesn't have any weapons on her, because he's really not liking his survival chances at the moment.

Dele still looks absolutely blank. Eric would like to cover for him, but he doesn't want to be the one to talk first, not when he's pretty much the other woman.

"I can't believe you! You won't sleep with me but the second you go away you're willing to sleep with your teammate during a major tournament! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Despite the murderous feel to the situation, Eric feels quite satisfied. Dele's all his. Goddamnit, he really is becoming the other woman.

"I like Eric..." Dele mutters. He can barely hear it, but it definitely comes out.

"Oh you like him huh? I'd call this a lot more than _liking_ him!" She pulls out her phone, shoving the video Eric saw just a few hours ago in Dele's face.

_Danny fucking didn't._

Eric sits himself up. He's absolutely livid. She's going to get her ass out of this room and then he's going to murder Danny, that fucking snake.

"Get out." It comes out darker than he expected, but he's not complaining.

The response he gets is a slap in the face.

"Get out? You've got some nerve you whore, trying to get into my boyfriends pants when you know he's fucking taken. You're trash and you know it."

For a second he wants to slap her back. He's not a nut, and he definitely knows better, but she's the one who's got some nerve, not him.

"I hate to break it to you, but your boyfriend was the one who came onto me. He even told everyone that we were dating, so I guess you haven't been doing a very good job." It's not all that far from the truth, and he definitely succeeds in getting under her skin. She's ready to slap him again but she suddenly changes her attention to Dele, which he isn't pleased about, to say the least.

"Hit him and you're facing a world of pain."

"Stay out of this you little bitch!"

"Get out, both of you." Dele's eyes are dark, and he refuses to meet anyone's gaze.

"Now listen here you asshole, I didn't realize how fucked up your sense of sexuality was, but you're going to give me an explanation to why you cheated on me with your teammate in a public nightclub of all places!"

"I said, get out."

"Dele..." Eric tries to nudge him, but Dele refuses to move his eyes from his own body, like he can't quite believe what he's done.

"Out."

"Fine..." He mutters. He'd like to find his clothes but he doubts anyone's going to think too highly of him if he doesn't get his ass out of the room.

Dele's girlfriend, although ex-girlfriend would probably be the more accurate term to use now, beats him to it, heels clanging against the floor as she makes her way out the door and into the hallway. He's really hoping she doesn't wait for him out there, he'd like to make it back to his room in one piece.

And he does, sort of. He's searching through his bag for his room card. He can't exactly remember where he put it; if you can't tell he's not the most organized person, especially not in the early hours of the morning.

That's when he hears footsteps echo down the hall, and he's ready to make a run for it, because she's obviously come for his blood. It's not her though, it's Danny.

Which is probably even worse, to be honest.

He bites his tongue, forcing himself to keep a boatload of profanities away from his supposed friend. He honestly wants to punch Danny, punch him so fucking hard that he can't play in Thursday's game, which is just a stupid thought, since they need him, and he'd be back on the plane home before he could even plead his case for the deed.

Danny's mouth opens, like he wants to say something to him. But, for once in his life, luck seems to be on his side as his hand finally latches on to his room card. He grabs it like it's his lifeline, slotting it into the door and rushing inside the second it opens. He collapses onto his bed, wondering if tonight really did happen. Maybe he's trapped in one of those never ending dreams, stuck in this bed trying to wake up to no avail.

He doesn't even realize he's fallen asleep until he hears knocking on his door. He rolls over to check the alarm clock on the bedside table.

4:30

Who the hell could that be?

His first thought is Danny, probably come to chew him out again. Eric really isn't in the mood for a lecture.

"Piss off Danny." He moans, covering his ears with the pillow. If Danny somehow managed to get his room card he's ending his life now.

"What if it's not Danny?" The voice is quiet, and definitely not as playful as it should be, but there's no question it's Dele.

He's up opening the door in a flash.

So much for being subtle.

Dele's got a tank top to compliment his boxers. Eric hates to admit it, but he looks like a zombie.

"You look awful." It slips out before he can stop it.

"I know..." Dele mutters. His body is trembling ever so slightly, which raises Eric's guard up a notch, just at the thought Dele might be in harms way.

"Are you ok...?" He asks so quietly, like he doesn't want to break the fragile person in front of him. Dele's strong, but Eric doesn't like seeing him left vulnerable.

"I don't know..." The shaking's getting worse now, and Dele's yet to really meet his gaze. It leaves Eric's stomach churning nervously, like something bad's destined to happen.

"Can I...?" Eric moves his hand towards Dele's. He still feels the need to ask for permission. Dele nods in response and Eric gently laces their hands together, guiding Dele to the bed.

They flop down together and no one says anything for a moment. Dele's hand feels way too cold for his liking and Eric immediately feels the need to break the silence.

"Why are you so cold?"

Dele's eyes turn to meet his. As cliche as it sounds, he swears he gets lost in them, for just a second.

"I was lying on the balcony."

Eric gapes at him.

"In that?"

"Nope, I put the top on before I came here to find you."

"Dele, you're gonna make yourself sick." He mutters, wrapping the two of them in blankets. He inspects his efforts carefully, making sure Dele can cling onto some of his body heat.

"Good, I need to feel something."

Dele's response alarms him, and that's putting it lightly.

"Dele..."

"I can't believe I did that."

He obviously regrets it. Eric suddenly feels awful, he probably pushed Dele into it, being a bad influence and all.

"I'm sorry Dele." It comes out quiet as he averts his gaze. Dele's probably gonna leave now, leave and never speak to him again.

_Great work Dier, just fucking great._

"I don't know what's wrong with me. It's that feeling, it's always there. It's here right now Eric. I keep trying to stop it, but nothing helps. I'm going to ruin everything..." His voice cracks, and he's fairly sure Dele's barely holding back his tears.

It suddenly hits him.

_"Don't you feel something whenever we're together? This warm tingly feeling that leaves you all mushy inside?"_

Dele's been in love. He's been in love for a long time. Tonight was just the night he lost control of it.

Turns out he's not the only one who likes building walls around himself.

He pictures the pounding base of the club, people grinding against each other on the dance floor. He pictures a tanned girl, probably Portuguese, sliding down next to a blond guy, him. After a few moments their laughter makes its rounds through the club, leaving Dele standing, just watching, all alone.

That's what made him snap. The thought someone else could snatch the person he loved away from him with such ease.

Someone Dele worked so hard to keep. Even if it meant building a wall around his heart. A wall that seemed to crumble by the second.

"I never thought I had a chance..." Dele mutters. "I'm not anything you'd ever go for. I'm not all that smart, I'm not Portuguese, and I'm definitely not a woman. But I couldn't help myself, I'm sorry Eric, I'm so sorry." Dele buries his face in the blanket. Eric attempts to lift it, but to no avail.

"Hey Dele, I have it too."

Dele's head slowly rises.

"You what?"

"That warm little feeling, I have it too."

"... You do?"

He gently plants a kiss to Dele's lips.

"I do."

Dele's mouth slowly morphs into a smile.

"Thank you Diet, thank you."

"For what?"

" _Everything_."

~

He wakes up to the feeling of pain. He's almost certain Dele's former girlfriend has found him until he forces himself to open his eyes, only to find Dele latched onto his body like a goddamn viper.

"Dele..." He tries, "I don't think I can breath..."

Dele's eyes slowly open, lazy smile on his lips. "Good morning sunshine."

Eric somehow manages to shove him away. "Don't ever call me that again."

"But you're my sunshine Eric." Dele's mouth curls into a small frown. He looks too small, so Eric lets it slide.

"Fine... I'm your sunshine." He mutters, trying to untangle himself from the blanket. Dele instantly brightens.

"I'm gonna go get us breakfast, ok Diet?" Dele's beaming at him, and Eric instantly feels his cheeks heat up. He loves it when Dele smiles like that, he probably has the most genuine smile on the planet.

"No, I'll come with you." He slips out of bed, putting a hand through his mess of hair. There's a breakfast buffet downstairs. It's 11:30 right now, so he's praying they're still actually serving it.

"Diet, can I borrow something?" Dele questions. He's left confused for a moment until he realizes, clothes. Of course he completely forgot about putting pants on, _real_   _smooth Eric._

"Sure. It's in the drawers." It's all decked out with official England gear. Gary Neville's a real stickler for that sort of thing. Even Eric's too afraid to test his patience. Apparently he locked someone in the team bus after they showed up to breakfast in sweatpants. Although he's pretty sure that's bullshit, he's not gonna be the one to find out.

Dele pulls out Eric's warmup tops, two short sleeved two long sleeved.

"Which one do you like better?"

"Jesus, just pick something."

"Fine, we're wearing long sleeves." Dele tosses him one. Eric starts to feel his face heat up.

"We?"

"Yep, we're matching Diet."

Eric doesn't respond, slipping the garment over his head. Hopefully they don't run into any of their teammates.

They put on some tracksuit bottoms and make their way to the elevator. It's 11:50 now and Eric can't remember for sure, but he's almost positive the buffets done at noon. The elevator closes slowly, and Eric's ready to start pacing impatiently. _He just wants his breakfast goddamnit._

They're in the dining room by 11:55. It's empty, thank god.

"So DelBoy, what do you want?"

Dele's eyes are fixated on the waffle makers, and suddenly it seems like all too good of an idea to pass up.

"I've never made one of those before."

"Well then, this can be you hotel buffet baptism. You aren't King of the Buffet until you've made your own waffle." He grins, making his way over. Although he really shouldn't, he can't help himself.

They decide to make one and split it between the two of them. It doesn't take very long to make, aside from the decoration process. The deck it out in way too much whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and raspberries. He really hopes no one sees them.

They somehow manage to make it back to the elevator unscathed. Eric's ready to dig his ass into this masterpiece. He's fairly proud of himself, especially thanks to the way Dele's staring at him in awe. Damn, he makes a good waffle.

"You're seriously not eating that." Kyle says when they exit the elevator. He's decked in an England polo and Eric's willing to bet anything Danny told him all about what went on last night.

"So what if I am?" It comes out snappier than expected.

"What's up your ass this morning princess?" He fucking hates Kyle's nickname for him. Dele finds it absolutely hilarious, tells him he kinda has princess hair. It's rubbish.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." He mutters, Kyle doesn't hear it.

"So DelBoy, what's up with your better half?"

"He wants his waffle, getting separation anxiety from it." Dele grins. Eric can't help but roll his eyes, so much for the backup.

"That things just a bucketful of calories mate, why eat that now?"

"I'll work it off later." He feels like getting in some extra work today anyway.

"By what? Boning your boyfriend?"

He almost drops his fucking waffle.

Kyle immediately slaps his hand over his mouth. That was loud. Way too loud.

Eric's gapping like a hooked fish. Kyle did _not_ just say that.

"Get the fuck out of my way." He's surprised it makes its way out of his mouth. Kyle looks fairly gutted, but Eric's having none of it.

"Eric I'm sorry, I was just joking, it came out wrong, ok?"

He walks past, doesn't look back until he's reached his room, sliding the keycard viciously into the door. Dele leans his head on Eric's shoulder, knows that words are only gonna make him angrier. It's comforting in a way.

They pile inside and Eric places the waffle on the bedside table, collapsing into bed. Dele sits down next to him, crosslegged as he tentatively takes a raspberry from their masterpiece, holding it in front of Eric's mouth.

He sighs and opens, his tongue greeted with a burst of sweetness. He feels a bit better, sitting himself up to reach Dele's level.

"All better?" Dele asks, taking a plastic spoonful of whipped cream and placing it in front of Eric's lips.

"You don't need to feed me..." He mutters.

"I'm just trying to make you feel better and you're grumpier when you're hungry."

He gives, letting the spoon enter his mouth.

"Why are you so upset mate?"

"Why do you think?" He deadpans. Jesus, Dele's usually not this dense. "How does it not bother you?"

"It's not that bad Eric," Dele's voice is all soft and silky. "If you want to do that to me... I'll let you, I'll make you feel _so_ good."

Eric immediately goes hot. "Dele, are you trying to seduce me?"

Dele's face breaks into a grin. "Maybe."

Eric shoves at him. "You fuck."

"I know you liked it Diet, I saw it in your eyes."

"Stop looking at me!" He covers his face with his arms, trying to defend himself as Dele crawls onto his lap.

"Ok then, I guess you can feed me instead." He can sense Dele's smile as he gets himself into a comfortable position.

Feeding Dele doesn't sound too bad, so he eagerly grips the spoon. Dele dips his finger in the whipped cream, seductively sucking it. What a mug.

"Quit it." Eric swats him. "I know what you're up to, you horny fuck."

"How did you know?"

"That you're trying to mess with my head?"

"No, that I'm horny?"

Eric gags on his waffle. "Get away from me."

Dele bursts into laughter, he's doubled over and practically in tears. Meanwhile Eric's still way too red for his liking and beyond pissed off.

"I hate you so much..." He mutters, laying back down and covering his face with the pillow. Dele rolls on top of him. Eric's not exactly positive, but he's fairly sure Dele's rests his head on the pillow, much to the delight of his face.

"What if I wasn't lying?"

He doesn't even have time to pass out before the door opens. What the hell did he do deserve this? Has anyone on this fucking planet ever heard of privacy?

Dele lifts his head, and he assumes he's turning to face the intruder while Eric takes a moment to recollect himself.

"Hi..." He tries weakly. "What are you guys doing here?"

Great there's more people here to watch him suffer, just brilliant.

"You left your keycard in the door." Harry's voice is extremely steady. He's honestly surprised Harry's willing to get into this. He's usually not one to get in other people's business or drama for that matter. Still, at the moment he wants nothing more than to slap himself, what idiot leaves a keycard in their door?

"Oops..." Dele mutters, sliding off the bed to grab it. "Is that all you guys were here for?"

"No, we wanted to talk to the two of you." Danny's voice seems fairly firm. He's already sensing a lecture. "If Eric will even talk to us."

"You can tell me and I'll tell Eric." Dele matches Danny's tone. It doesn't take a genius to know Dele's shielding him, just as he usually shields Dele.

"I can tell you a whole lot."

"I'm listening." Dele's pretty fearless, doesn't even flinch at the venom behind Danny's voice.

"Why are you doing this to yourself? You have practically everything right now and you're willing to throw it all away? Are you trying to ruin everything you've worked so hard for?"

"I'm not ruining myself."

"Yes you are, how do you expect to keep this up? The press will devour you, and you know it."

"What if they don't find out?"

"Half the team practically knows and it just happened yesterday!"

"Yeah and who's fault is  _that?_ "

Eric shifts himself, Danny looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting Dele to know.

_Wait, how the hell would he even know?_

"Eric talks in his sleep."

He moans. _Why_?

"So are you gonna apologize for trying to ruin my life or...?" Dele sounds fairly smug. He's got Danny right where he wants him.

"Dele, you're honestly willing to hide your relationship with Eric from the world, because that's what you're going to have to do." Harry steps in, eyeing Dele quizzically.

"Yep. If that's what it takes."

"You're nutty, you know that DelBoy? Why the hell would you cheat on your girlfriend for Eric?" Kyle sounds fairly disgusted. Jesus Christ, why do his Spurs teammates feel the need to throw an intervention?

"Because Eric found me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Eric knows. He knows because he knows Dele inside out. He knows the way Dele thinks love works. The way where you can't look for love, it has to find you.

His cheeks instantly heat up.

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean."

"It means that you're willing to cheat on your girlfriend. You're awful."

"Maybe. I couldn't help it, I get all warm inside when I'm with Eric." Dele's voice is soft. He doesn't want to give anything away, nothing that belongs solely to the two of them.

"It really surprises me that Eric would be into a guy who's greatest accomplishment in life's creating a Fanta and Coke mixture. Always thought he'd end up with someone a little more cultured." Kyle's smirking, and even from afar he can sense the smile playing across Dele's lips.

"He knows Lisbon's got nothing on Milton-Keynes." Eric can't help but snort. Dele's ridiculous.

"Obviously." Kyle and Dele bump fists, starting one of their ridiculous handshakes. Eric never has, and never will, be into that sort of thing.

"Well DelBoy you've got my blessing." Kyle's laughing. "Just don't do anything funny until the end of the tournament."

Dele mock salutes. "Yes sir."

"So are we off boys?" Kyle asks. Harry appears to nod, but Danny, well Eric can feel Danny's gaze practically melting him.

"I just wanna talk to Eric for a second."

"What if Eric doesn't feel like talking?" He didn't mean to say that one aloud.

"Well too bad. You guys go get ready, we're getting lunch, you too Dele." Dele seems to nod, sending Eric a flirtatious wink before he exits.

He honestly needs to quit that.

Danny pulls the pillow from Eric's face, which doesn't please him all that much.

"You're still mad." It's not even a question.

"No _shit_." Eric's voice is laced with fury. Danny practically tried to ruin his life, why wouldn't he be pissed?

"I was out of line. I'm sorry." Wait Danny's apologizing? Eric sits up, completely speechless.

"I was just trying to do what was right for the team but..." He trails off.

"I don't think I did the right thing, not after I saw him today."

"What are you talking about?" Danny's losing him, being a right vague asshole.

"Eric... He was practically glowing."

"Excuse me?"

"He seemed so happy, just to defend you, and his love for you. I didn't expect that."

"What the hell were you expecting?"

"That you two were becoming fuck buddies."

"You're awful."

"Well the way you were acting in the bathroom sure painted that picture."

He wills his cheeks not to flush at that comment.

"We couldn't help it..." He scratches the back of his neck uneasily.

"I should've honestly expected it. The two of you are way too close sometimes. I remember back when we all went out for your birthday, me and him went shopping for something to wear a few hours before that. Every time he tried something on he asked if I thought you'd like it, didn't think anything of it then, but it sure makes sense now."

_Oh Dele. Why does he do this to him?_

"All I'm trying to say is I'll support you, as long as you stay focused." Eric nods. He usually doesn't mind Danny, and he doesn't need anymore enemies.

"Also Eric, if you hurt him, I'll kill you."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Good, just a warning." He gets it. Danny generally likes to keep tabs on Dele. He's got a soft spot for English wonder kids, not that he'll ever tell anyone, but Eric can read him like a book.

"So lunch, you're not wearing that out are you?"

Eric rolls his eyes. All his Spurs teammates jump at the opportunity to take a jab at his style.

It's really not that bad.

_Is it?_

~

How Danny found out about this place, he'll never know.

It's busy, yet calm, with massive windows open to give them a great few of the street. The foods decent too. Dele, much to Eric's annoyance, is munching away. Dele's the loudest eater on the planet. He's fairly sure he's being intentionally louder than usual, just to test his patience.

Eric isn't exactly a happy camper. He's seated across from Dele, who hasn't stopped playing footsies with him since they sat down. His other teammates continue to shoot him knowing looks and it's really starting to get on his nerves. He originally wanted to share his meal with Dele, and no, not because he was trying to be romantic. It's because they just ate and he's getting a tad paranoid about all his calories. Unfortunately that thought was squashed the second it was suggested.

"You guys can go sit on the curb if you want to be all lovey-dovey, sharing your food!" Kyle had declared, causing the table, aside from Eric and Dele to erupt in laughter.

So now he has to eat his own food, and he feels fucking bloated. _Just great._

> **you look sad Diet.**

The text from Dele's absolutely ridiculous. No shit he's annoyed.

>  ** _Because I feel like a fucking whale_**

> **want me to make you feel better ;)**

Eric rolls his eyes, taking a sip of water when Dele's foot touches his crotch, pressing ever so teasingly.

Eric nearly spits out his water.

_Is he fucking serious right now?_

> **_you have five seconds to move your foot._**

>  **or what?**

Dele grins smugly at him, pressing the teensiest bit harder. Eric is honestly gonna kill him.

>  ** _or you're fucking dead_**

>  **awww don't be like that**

>  _ **move it**_

More pressure.

>  **no, let me massage your balls**

Eric starts choking and everyone at the table stares at him. He honestly just wants to die.

"Are you alright?" Harry actually sounds genuinely concerned, which is great, as long as he doesn't look at what's going on under the table.

"Just fucking _peachy_." He mutters.

"Are you sure? You look kind of warm." Everyone's studying him now. He tries to will himself not to go red, but it's failing big time.

"Yeah Eric, are you feeling hot?" Dele's voice is so mischievous, just trying to wind him up.

Well, two can play at that game.

"Actually yeah, I think I'll go get some air." He slides his chair back, a small smile creeping onto his lips as Dele's foot clangs to the floor. Dele himself looks like a fish out of water.

'That's what you get for pushing your luck.' He thinks to himself, giving the boys a curt wave before heading off to the bathroom. He needs a minute to recollect himself.

The bathrooms here are odd. Instead of having a large bathroom with multiple stalls, it's a long hallway, with ten individual bathrooms, five for each gender. At least he can calm himself in peace.

He slides into one, immediately turning the tap on, splashing some water against his face. The cold helps a bit.

That's until his phone buzzes.

> **open the door Eric**

He realizes he forgot to lock the door the second he hears the knob start to turn.

_Oh shit._

"Hi sunshine."

"You sound like a serial killer." He scoffs, turning off the tap.

Dele's beaming. "Maybe."

"Stop smiling at me like that. You almost killed me. You here to finish me off?"

"I'm here to get you off." Dele winks and Eric shoves at him.

"I swear to God, you're awful."

"Are you mad at me Eric?"

"You were trying to make me look like a right horny bastard."

Dele's grinning. Eric has no idea why he's being so sexual. It's kind of throwing him off.

"What's up with you and all the sexual talk anyway?"

"Because I like it hot." More laughing, Eric buries his face in his hand. Dele, honestly...

"Can we be serious now Dele?"

"I thought you like that sort of thing..." He mutters.

"Why the hell would you think that? I can barely keep a straight face when you take a jab at my hairstyle, how do you expect me to handle you being dirty all the time?"

"Because you squeezed."

He _what?_

_Oh god..._

_Dele's ass._

"You have a nice butt! That doesn't mean I want to eat it for lunch with our teammates!"

That came out awful, but he rolls with it.

"I really love you DelBoy, but I don't always wanna be locking myself in bathrooms you know?"

"You think I have a nice butt...?"

"Don't let it get to your head."

"It's nice, you like it a lot?"

"Were you even listening to anything else I said?"

Dele's trying to turn around, get a nice look at his ass in the mirror.

"I never noticed." He shrugs. He's honestly the worst.

"You're hopeless."

"Is that your favourite thing about me?"

"No, Jesus, do you think I just go around staring at your ass all the time?"

"Maybe. What's your favourite thing about me Eric, and you can't just say everything."

His favourite thing about Dele. That's a tough one. He likes pretty much everything about Dele, aside from his loud eating and endless nutmegs, he also uses Snapchat way too often. But other than that, Dele's pretty great.

He finally decides.

"I like your laugh. Even if you sound like a dying hyena half the time, it's completely you."

"Aww Diet, you're so romantic." Dele mocks, voice all dreamy. Eric nudges at him.

"Hey, it's a better nickname than sunshine. Want to remind me why you're calling me that again?"

"You don't know the song Eric?"

"I know the song, you knob, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, you make me happy, and all warm inside, like the sun. That's why."

"You're such a sap." He can't help but giggle.

"I'm your sap." His smile is soft as he wraps his arms around Eric's chest, resting his chin along Eric's shoulder. He's already fairly sure of what he's going to say before the door opens once again and he's greeted to the grinning face of Kyle Walker.

"Look at that, Eric Dier, scoring on and off the pitch."

He gapes at Dele through the mirror. "Why the hell wouldn't you lock the door?"

"You didn't."

"Because I'm an idiot! Why wouldn't you think to... Why do I even bother?"

Kyle's still grinning. "So Eric, looks like your love life's been cracking. What were you getting onto just now?"

"He thinks I have a nice butt."

Is there any way he can die now? Honestly he wants to melt into the floor.

_Why Dele, just why?_

"What a charmer Dier, your pickup lines are spot on." Kyle's grinning at Dele. They're really having a good time humiliating him, aren't they?

"I don't need pickup lines when the picking up's already done." He mutters. At least he's not too flushed. "If you can't tell, he's very picked up."

Kyle grins. "I guess mate, we're out of here, going golfing. See you tomorrow in training."

"Later mate." He grins back at Kyle. For once he doesn't feel like the brunt of everyone's jokes.

There's a silence between the two of them for a moment. Dele's still resting his head on Eric's shoulder, and he honestly seems fairly content to sit like this for awhile.

Eric on the other hand, isn't a big fan of bathrooms, especially public ones, so he'd really like to get his ass out of here.

"So what are we doing now DelBoy?"

Dele says nothing. He's kind of just staring at him in the mirror. It's a bit unsettling, even if it's just Dele.

He flicks Dele in the side, causing him to flinch. Dele's extremely ticklish, Eric knows that better than anyone. "What are you doing?" He tries.

"Getting lost in your eyes."

Eric whips around, shoving Dele so hard he almost stumbles into the toilet.

"Can you be any less embarrassing?!" He steadies Dele, brushing him off. Dele's grinning at him, probably laughing at how much of a mum he is.

"I was just telling the truth." Dele shrugs, opening the bathroom door. "What are we gonna do now Diet? And if you say golfing I'll actually kill you."

Eric snickers. Dele's hatred for the game of golf is absolutely hilarious. He gets way too frustrated sometimes, plus he looks ridiculous in golf gear.

"Why not? Those pants are pretty fitting on you."

"And you say you don't look at my butt all the time?"

"What else is interesting about golfing?" He grins. He doesn't hate the sport as much as Dele, but it can get fairly dull.

Dele suddenly grasps his hand, giving it a affectionate squeeze. No one's in the hallway, but he's already on pins and needles with everyone up in his business lately, so he tenses up.

"Dele..." He tries.

"Sorry." Dele's embarrassed, he's staring at his shoes with a guilty smile on his face. "Needed that." He guides Eric's hand back down to his side, giving it one last squeeze.

Eric decides to brush it off, he doesn't exactly think it's a good idea to push on for the sake of his sanity.

"Let's have a picnic Diet."

"You just ate, how the hell are you still hungry?" Dele just shrugs. Honestly he might as well be a toothpick at the rate he's going.

"The managers gonna drop me when he realizes I've gained five pounds in a day. He doesn't need a whale for a DM." He continues. Dele's weird, doesn't gain a pound no matter how much he packs. Eric's always been a tad too cautious, they tend to be more concerned about that sort of thing in Portugal.

"You're not fat Eric." Dele says as they exit the restaurant. He knows he isn't. He's built sturdy, like your average central defender, but that doesn't stop him from being paranoid.

"I'm not a beanpole like you." He flicks at Dele, in attempt to change the subject.

"You can relax sometimes, you know, let your guard down?"

 _Let his guard down?_ Eric's guards always on red alert, and he likes it that way.

"It's the biggest tournament of my life Dele, I can't just let myself go."

"I know, but you're putting too much pressure on yourself."

"Because I have everything to prove."

"You're trying to be the hero, but it's a team game Diet." Their hands brush ever so slightly. Dele's right, he's not alone in trying to meet the countries expectations.

"I want to win, so bad." Dele mutters. "Even if no one thinks we can after Russia, I want to prove them wrong. Everyone's taking it as bad luck, but I'm angry Diet. I'm so angry we didn't win..." He trails off.

He understands how Dele feels. Dele's an emotional player, wears his feelings on his sleeve. Although Dele's never told him so, Eric can tell it pisses him off when the English press go on about his temper. He wouldn't really say Dele has a temper, more like he's too passionate, loves football too much. He gets frustrated when he can't play his game, and that frustration sometimes boils over. He remembers one time when one of the England trainers suggested Dele take temperament classes, mainly because of the rage Dele was just barely keeping under the surface as he gave a polite 'no', before voicing his displeasure to Eric a few moments later.

_"They're treating me like I'm this child that needs constant watch or something. I'm sick of it." He'd whispered, for Eric's ears alone._

Although Dele shouldn't really have any complaints after the couple times he's really lost it, Eric had said nothing.

Now they're back to this.

"You can't do anything about it. Just come back stronger for the Wales game." He tries to be firm. Dele can't push his luck on the big stage.

"You're worried about me too. You think I'm some sort of ticking time bomb."

"I have a right to worry about you."

"Because I threw punches at someone in a match, I know, you don't need to remind me."

"No, because I'm your boyfriend you idiot."

He's almost positive Dele blushes.

"Thanks Eric."

~

"Stop looking at my butt Diet!"

They've been doing some extra work in the gym for the past couple hours. He's a tad hungry, needs to grab some dinner, but at the moment he's liking not feeling like a beached whale.

He's been on one of the bikes for the past twenty minutes, bit of a cool down. Dele's doing chin-ups, back facing him. If he was staring, he didn't notice.

"I wasn't." He protests, although he's not to sure Dele can hear him over the blaring music they've got playing. Dele insists it's motivational, which it is to the degree of Eric willing to work harder and faster to spare himself the hearing damage.

Twenty five minutes of cool down seem fitting enough, he's drenched in sweat and doesn't want to overexert himself, not before a crunch-time match against Wales. He stops his furious peddling, breathing heavily.

Dele's still doing his chin-ups, probably hasn't even realized Eric's finished his workout. He's got this determined expression on his face, the one where he's way too focused to acknowledge anything aside from the task in front of him. Dele normally plays with that face, although he's far more observant on the pitch than off it.

It only takes him a couple minutes to catch his breath and make his way over to Dele, who's pulling himself up for the millionth time. He's only a step behind him when Dele finally notices, stopping his exercise and hanging from the bar like it's a piece of play equipment.

"Wanted a better view?" Dele leans his head back at him, grin plastered on his lips.

He rolls his eyes, taking a seat on the floor and putting an end to Dele's concert of pain.

"Why'd you turn the music off?"

"Because I can feel my ears bleeding."

"You're no fun." Dele releases the bar, sliding down next to him, laying his head in Eric's lap.

Eric gently strokes Dele's hair. He looks so calm, so beautiful, just resting here. _All Eric's_.

Dele yawns, trying to get his head into a comfortable position. Eric takes a second just to observe him.

Dele's physique has changed drastically since they first met, back when Dele was nothing more than a skinny teenager. Lately Dele's been packing upper body muscle, trying to build up his strength. He no longer looks like a flagpole in comparison to Eric.

He continues slicking Dele's hair back, perfectly content to sit like this for the rest of the night. Dele makes a whining noise, trying to slide out of his clutches.

"Your hands are so sweaty."

"That's just you. You drip."

"No I don't!"

"It's like raindrops." He's laughing as Dele lifts his head from his lap, mockingly shooting him a dirty look.

"Shut up Diet." Even Dele knows he's lost this one. After practically every game while Eric ends up rosy-cheeked, Dele looks like someone's just dumped a water bottle over his head. It's cute, in a weird way.

Dele rubs his forehead. If he's being honest, his hands are probably sweatier, but he's not going to tell Dele that, what kind of boyfriend would he be?

He grins smugly to himself as Dele rises to his feet, holding a hand out to help him up. He gracefully accepts until he realizes the motive behind it.

_Damn it._

Dele grins, Python grasp around his hand. He's fairly sure Dele's gonna cut off his circulation at some point.

"Liar, they are sweaty."

"You're being dramatic."

"You called me sweaty."

"You are sweaty."

"Not as sweaty as your hand."

"Then let go of it."

"No."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're a liar."

He tries to tug away, but Dele's grasp is far too strong. He honestly isn't liking the feeling of being outmuscled.

"Let go Dele."

"Nope."

Dele starts dragging him towards the gym exit. He's not gonna exactly say he's proud of this, but right before they hit the door Dele seems to notice they've left their water bottles. He hands Eric his, and well Eric decides it would be a great idea to squirt him right in the face.

It pretty much works to perfection.

Dele releases him instantly, shaking his face out, trying to get the water out of his nose and mouth. Meanwhile Eric can't stop laughing, he's got tears dripping from his eyes. He's honestly so pleased with himself, cheating death like that.

While Eric's remembering how to breath, Dele finally recollects himself.

That's about when the feeling of death looms over him.

"Diet..." There's a murderous smile, all teeth, playing across Dele's lips. He's standing completely still, eyes fixated to the ground. They're rising to meet Eric's fearful blue.

He does what any man would do.

He runs for it.

Although Dele's quicker than him, he somehow manages to make it back to his room unscathed. He doesn't think he's ever run as quickly in his life. He leans against the door, trying to catch his breath.

Dele doesn't have his room card, and he doubts the staff at the front desk will give it to him. Prior to the trip they were mailed two room cards each. Dele probably gave one of those to his past girlfriend, which explains why she oh-so-nicely invaded his room. Eric still has both of his. The second ones somewhere.

Still, he decides to push a chair up against the door, just as a safety precaution. He's fairly satisfied with his work, although he's not too sure what he's gonna do about getting dinner. Maybe he can get Stonesy to sneak him something.

He's already anticipating Dele camping at his door, the knocks probably only seconds away. He grins, he already knows he's won this one.

That's why he practically pisses himself when the door opens, chair falling backwards to clang onto the hotel floor, the only sound in an eerily silent scene.

In typical horror movie fashion, Dele's there. Face practically glowing with that terrifying smile of his. He's got a nice big bucket of water in hand that's undoubtably going to drench Eric at some point. He's cornered and he knows it.

"You stole my room card." It's not even a question.

"Yep." He sounds so innocent. Eric's pretty sure he's shaking as Dele takes slow steps foreword. He's prolonging this, that wind up merchant.

"Dele wait! I know you want to murder me with that thing but can we at least do it in the shower so I'm not getting charged for water damage?" He sounds so petty, but the last thing he needs is to look like an absolute mug in front of his teammates. Word gets around the national team quickly, and him getting charged for wrecking his room is sure to be juicy gossip. Knowing his luck, he'll probably be dropped for it too.

"Fine." Dele's still grinning, he's definitely got something up his sleeve.

He rips his shirt off, marching into the bathroom. Dele follows, closing the door and leaning against it. This is where he'll meet his execution.

Dele seems to have other plans though, placing the bucket behind his legs. Eric would be inclined to lunge for it, but knowing him, he'd miss and face further punishment.

"You're so scared of me, aren't you Diet?"

"You're a sadist when you're angry, so yes, I'm pissing myself."

"I'm not going to hurt you sunshine, just gonna punish you."

He's about to ask what the difference is when Dele pulls off his top. As much as he enjoys the view, it raises plenty of questions.

Those questions are answered when he uses the shirt to tie Eric's wrists together, he really doesn't know how Dele managed to do it. Still, this has prolonged torture written all over it, and Eric won't be able to fight back.

"You're going to kill me aren't you?"

"Nope, I just want to show you something."

Show him his grave probably.

He's not to far off.

"I thought you were sweeter than that Diet, never thought you'd try and attack me. Before you did that I was gonna make you feel really special. You know what I was gonna do?" Dele's voice is the tiniest bit teasing, nice and soft too.

"I was going to give you this, all of this." Dele slowly drops his pants, leaving Eric to gape at him.

Dele's tight-fitting boxers are at _least_ two sizes too small for him, and that's being generous. As snug as they are, Dele's ass looks fucking delectable.

_That fucking tease._

"I look nice, don't I Diet?"

"How did you even manage to get those on, they're child-sized."

"Magic." Dele's winks at him, and he's starting to feel a tad too hot for his liking. He's letting Dele get to him, and he needs to stop it.

"Dele... Did you wear those all day? Since lunch? Is that why you were trying to get in my pants?" There's no other explanation. Dele couldn't have slipped them on in the five minutes it took him to get up here. Just taking a quick look, and no, he's not staring, it seems like a twenty minute job, minimum.

"Shut up Diet."

"Dele, you worked out in those didn't you? How do you still have circulation down there?"

"Eric, shut up! I'm trying to seduce you!"

"Can't help it, I'm worried about your survival. Dele, take those off."

"Cheeky."

"I didn't mean it that way, you're probably cutting your circulation." He's trying to stay calm.

"You don't think I look nice, do you?" Dele's lips are trembling. He looks beyond discouraged.

"Dele-"

"You think I look like a desperate idiot, is that it? Desperate?"

"Dele-"

"I picked them out and everything! I thought you'd like them!"

"I do like them ok? A lot." He barely gets it out.

"... You do?"

"I do. If I could, I'd touch, but it's a nice view."

Dele seems happy with himself now, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

"You can touch Eric, but we're gonna play a little game, if you want to."

"I'm listening."

"Because you were so mean earlier, this waters gonna be your new best friend. You're gonna dunk your head in the bucket for as long as you can. However many seconds you hold it for is how long you get to touch. You only get one try so make it count Diet."

Oh joy. Dele's crafty, he'll give him that.

He's really gonna dunk his head in a bucket of water, isn't he? Well, there goes his dignity.

"If that's what it takes."

Dele places the bucket on the sink. He can see there's fucking ice cubes floating around in the water. This is gonna be painful.

He usually loves the water, everything about it. Even loved doing the ice bucket challenge. But this, this is a little much.

His face is inches from the bucket when he turns to Dele.

"You wanna do the honour? Shove me in?"

"Nope. This is all your choice Diet, not mine." There's a knowing smirk on his face. He knows exactly what he's doing, making him beg for it without doing any actual begging.

People really underestimate how smart Dele really is.

It is all his choice.

And he chooses to dunk his head. Because he wants Dele. They both know it.

He goes for just over a minute. The water's so cold he can barely feel his face. He's never been a fan of holding his breath underwater. When they swim, Dele's the one who likes to dive deep. Eric's perfectly happy to keep his head above water, watching over Dele, making sure he doesn't drown.

He's fairly short of breath, and that's putting it lightly. He's also freezing. What was he thinking? He's totally catching a cold from this. He should've used his brain, but instead his libido seems to be dominating all else.

_Real smooth Eric._

"A minute seven seconds, I'm really impressed Diet." Dele hands him a towel. It feels warm, fluffy too, but he's sure anything's better than the Arctic he just drowned his face in.

"Were you trying to get me to kill myself?"

"Nope. I just wanted to know how far you'd go."

Apparently far enough that he's willing to get hypothermia just for Dele.

"I'm really happy Diet."

"That my face is falling off?" He deadpans.

"No, that you want me that badly."

"Coming from a guy who tried to seduce me wearing boxers that are at _least_ two sizes to small for him, you're on quite your high horse right now."

"Because I want you too Eric."

Never has there been a moment in his entire life where he's felt more connected to someone. Sitting in a hotel bathroom, face completely numb, he's never been more in love.

He's pretty sure Dele's bullshit love advice just shot him through the heart like one of cupids arrows. You can't look for love, it has to find you.

He's pretty sure Dele just found him.

Broke down his walls to make him beg.

And Eric,

Eric's pretty sure he's fine with that.

~

It's the night before the Wales game. Eric's been tense all night, as he usually is before a big match. Only this time his tense feelings aren't coming from the magnitude of the game in front of him.

Oh no, they're coming from the fear that he won't make it till morning, not with this viper, otherwise known as his boyfriend, wrapped around his body.

Dele's arm has somehow managed to get itself under his back, possessively latching onto his waist, while one of his legs is tangled in between Eric's, making escape nearly impossible. Not to mention he's holding one of Eric's hands close to his body, making it impossible for Eric to find any form of comfort.

"Jesus Dele, let go..." He moans. He's not getting any sleep at this rate. He's half wondering if Dele's just taking the piss at him, but he's a sound sleeper, always has been. He just also happens to be a cuddler, something Eric never realized.

"Mine..." Dele tries to tug his hand closer, causing him to roll uncomfortably. Dele's in his own little dreamland, and Eric, well Eric wouldn't be surprised if his arm falls off.

"I'm never sleeping with you again..." He mutters to himself. Dele's got a smile on his face, like he's never slept better. At least someone's getting their beauty rest.

"That's not nice Diet..." Dele mumbles, he's half awake, if that.

"Just hold my hand while you sleep, you don't need to attach yourself to my body."

"But I like having all of you..." Dele sounds like a child, he's so out of it. But to Eric, it's pretty heartwarming.

"Don't strangle me then." He a tad snappy, but he can't help it. He's probably gonna have marks from this in the morning.

"I'll... Mhmm... Make you feel nice if you score..." Dele's not there anymore, completely asleep. He somehow manages to wiggle himself into a slightly more comfortable position, running his hand through Dele's scalp.

"Goodnight DelBoy." He whispers.

~

'Eric Dier, scoring on and off the pitch.' Kyle's words come back to haunt him.

But for once,

Just maybe,

He can let it slide. 

 

 

 


End file.
